


It's Only Just Begun

by carefulwiththatwolfwhistle (ashinan)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Finale spoilers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/carefulwiththatwolfwhistle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's not one for over dramatic gestures. He prefers to watch from the shadows, swooping in at the last moment to deliver the final, emotionally crippling, blow. Well, okay, maybe he does enjoy his theatrics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Only Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

> I had a few issues with the way Peter was portrayed at the end of the season finale. This is my way of ... correcting it. Spoilers, obviously, for the finale.

Peter Hale watches, curious, a dozen feet behind her. He’d caught her crawling her way through the forest, gasping wetly, blood smearing over dead leaves and dirt as she clawed and fought to keep moving. He’d followed her all the way here, to that damnable stump, where she’s begging,  _pleading_ , for her life. He sighs, steps forward, and gets a warm sense of amusement when she cuts off mid plea.

The poor dear shouldn’t be alive. But, well, druids are stubborn creatures. Jennifer Blake is no exception. 

She rolls over, teeth bared in defiance, blood smeared down her chest and soaked through her shirt. Peter cocks an eyebrow at her, pursing his lips at the bloody handprints on the fine grey wood. She’s truly asking far too much. The power is already waning, dissipating back into the forest. Peter watches for a moment before turning back to Jennifer when she coughs. She barely has enough strength to meet his eyes, but when she does, she doesn't seem surprised. 

“Of course it’s you,” she gasps, her laugh bubbling up more blood. Peter grins, spreading his arms wide, giving a mock bow.

“If it was anyone else, I would be incredibly jealous,” he says, straightening. Jennifer bubbles at him again and Peter makes a face. “Really, shouldn’t you clean yourself up? I mean, this is just unbecoming.”

Jennifer chokes, gurgling, and Peter rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine, have it your way, I’m just asking for some common decency here. Now,” he clasps his hands behind his back, “what am I to do with you?”

Shifting, Jennifer moves to answer but Peter cuts her off. “Really, I’m not looking for anything from you, actually. Just sit there quietly while I monologue my brilliance and then watch you die pitifully on a stump losing power.” Jennifer starts at that and Peter laughs. “Oh! You didn’t know. The sacrifices you cultivated so lovingly have all gone to waste. It requires a constant stream, you know, of blood and screams, of the destructive snatching of human life. You leave the gods hungry for more than a night and, well, they just take it all back. Picky little bastards. Which is why you, druid, will die.

“Won’t that be fun?” Peter beams. Jennifer glares at him, her lips pulled back in a snarl. “I mean, honestly, you give and you  _give_ , but sometimes, well, what you give just doesn’t match the price. Pity, now. All that  _raw power_ , all that wasted potential, gone. Poof! And then there’s you.”

He turns, drops to an easy crouch between her splayed legs. Jennifer groans, tries to pull back, and Peter shuffles forward, fingers reaching to touch. She flinches, but he grabs her chin, his grip not unkind, and tilts her head back. Her gasps become harsher, blood seeping sluggish down her muddy throat. Peter tsks, pursing his lips.

“Monologues are so tedious. I think I'll just cut to the chase,” he says. Jennifer’s eyes grow wide and she wrenches her chin from his grasp, whining low in her throat in pain. Peter watches her, head cocked just a little. She’s a fascinating thing, really.

“Everyone else suffers,” she whispers, looking to buy time. Peter allows this small mercy, “but somehow, you come out on top." She's playing the defiant one now, spitting fire at him. "And now that Scott’s an alpha, you’ll be able to steal it from him. You’ll be an alpha again.” Hysterics colour her words and Peter taps a finger to his nose, shaking his head in amusement.

“Again?” He blinks, mouthing the word as if in confusion. Jennifer swallows, a sob riding high on her tongue, and Peter wants to string it out, make it  _sing._ He leans close, getting right in her face, flashing his eyes at her. She stills, prey caught in his trap. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ve  _always_  been an alpha.”

He glides his fingers over her throat,  _human_  nails, just barely touching. Jennifer's eyes freeze wide, mouth half open and panicked breath puffing against Peter's face. He traces the gashes gently, grin growing as Jennifer fights to push him away. Her blood almost looks black in the moonlight, dead and drying, though every gasp splashes a fresh trickle of red down her throat. Peter presses his fingers a little harder, catches the song creeping behind her teeth. It’s beautiful, waiting to be released into the night air.  

It just needs a little…push.

Shifting, he draws his fingers over the wound again, but this time flashes out his claws, gouging in deep as he goes left to right. She gurgles at him, panic wafting off her, fear and pain and the thick, suddenly overpowering scent of death. It's not the noise he wants. He pushes harder, digging deep, and her scream pierces the quiet like a banshee's wail. Her fingers jump to grasp his wrist as she tries to push him away. Peter laughs, low and mean, and wrings the last of the air from Jennifer's dying lungs. 

He watches her face while she dies, breathless just for that moment, and when the light fades from her eyes, her fingers slackening and falling from his wrist, he lets her go and throws his head back, grinning brilliant at the moon. "Oh, what a beautiful sound. Don't you think, old friend?"

The stump behind her sits cold and grey, lifeless now. Peter stands, dusting off his pants, frowning at the red painted smears he gets on the fabric. A hissing rends the air and he watches Jennifer’s lifeless body begin to deteriorate. The stump resonates with a fading power and Peter salutes it, turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction. What remains of Jennifer Blake has been returned to the forest.

He muses over possibilities. Scott’s new alpha status is indeed fortunate for him. He examines the sky again, the whole moon that glows with promise. Derek and Cora are leaving. He can’t stay in Beacon Hills without arousing suspicion, and it just won’t do for anyone to bumble over his plans while they’re still so tenderly being placed. He’ll have to follow the siblings to throw off suspicion. Plant ideas for them to return. Break them, little by little, until they fit back into the puzzle he’s created.

“Well,” he says, flashing his teeth at the shadows, “it’s only a beginning, after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [my tumblr](http://carefulwiththatwolfwhistle.tumblr.com/post/58766585590/)!


End file.
